We're Still Living With It - One Shot
by Flutterbycross
Summary: Aria Montgomery loves her family. She loves her boyfriend and friends. She would do anything to protect them and fight for them. So why does she make excuses for someone who has hurt so many of the people she loves? Is it really worth it to be Daddy's Little Girl? Disclaimer:I do not own anything associated with PLL. If I did, Byron would have been A's scratching post.


We're Still Living With It

 **A/N: PLL was all about the come-uppance. One question asked over and over on the show was, do they deserve what they're getting? When the twin fists of A and fate pummeled nearly everyone on the show, they always asked themselves, "did I bring this Hell down on myself?" But one character got off basically scot-free. Byron Montgomery was selfish, cowardly, deceitful, smug, vengeful, thoughtless, and boy did he play the victim a lot. But his family continually sought his approval, walked on eggshells for him, forgave him, even remarried the bastard. I think that's why so many fanfics make him a monster. Deep down we all know he has it coming. So here is a teensy dose of repercussion for the least punished, least vilified villain in Rosewood. This takes place after 3x6 "The Remains of the A".**

Aria heard the front door open and then close. Her heart began to beat a little faster, but she forced herself to continue with the task at hand. She would not seek out a fight, she would _not_ seek out a fight, but she wouldn't hide from one either. Her bedroom door was wide open, let him see what she was doing, he'd know sooner or later. Aria pulled clothes from her closet and folded them neatly. Between moving to and from Iceland and splitting her time between the places her parents lived, Aria had become an excellent packer. She knew she wouldn't have enough room to unpack everything, so she needed her suitcases to be neat enough that she could find things on a regular basis. She took her time and thought things through. She wasn't in a rush, she wasn't throwing a tantrum, this just had to be done.

After what seemed an eternity to Aria, she heard the stairs creaking, and braced herself for whatever came next. She purposefully kept her back to the doorway and continued placing items into the suitcase. _knock-knock_

"I'm home, Aria. What are you doing?" Byron Montgomery stood just outside his daughter's bedroom, surprised to see her packing at 11:00 at night.

Aria took a slow breath and tried not to let her voice shake. "I'm going to Mom's." Simple, true, he didn't deserve a more complete answer, but she knew he'd demand one.

"You need to take that much stuff to your mom's?" He indicated the piles of clothes on Aria's bed and the large suitcase that had been in the attic since they moved back to Rosewood.

"Since I'm not planning on coming back, yeah, I do." Aria knew that was antagonistic, but if he pushed she was happy to push back, or punch.

"Excuse me?" Byron went on the defensive. He didn't like what Aria had just said, or the way she'd said it.

"I'm moving in with Mom. I spoke to her already and she's fine with it." Aria stayed calm, outwardly at least.

"And you just assumed I would be fine with it as well." Byron could sense that even though Aria sounded cool, there was anger burning beneath the surface. What _horrible_ crime had he committed, lately?

"I didn't assume anything, Byron. But, I needed her to agree before I show up on her doorstep. I'm not changing anything for your situation." It wasn't like Byron did any more "parenting" anyway.

"Well, would you care to explain to me why you aren't going to be living _here_ with your brother and me, anymore?" Byron was spoiling for a fight at this point. He couldn't believe the blatant disrespect he was getting.

"I came to the realization that I couldn't continue overlooking the damage you've done and continue to do to some of the people I love most." Aria expected that this would set things off, but Byron wasn't going to let her leave without yelling, so…

" _I've_ done damage? What damage, Aria? Who am I supposedly hurting? _"_ He knew the answer, at least one of them, but he was going to make her say it. He would finally have an excuse to speak his mind for the first time in months.

"Mom, for one." Aria would start with the one it was harder for him to fight back on. She silently thanked Ali for her lessons on how to keep people off balance when fighting with them.

Byron wasn't expecting that response. He had absolutely hurt Ella, he'd apologized a million times, but things between them were cordial at this point. Had Ella told Aria that he was hurting her somehow? "How am I 'damaging' Ella? I gave her the divorce she wanted, I didn't fight her on anything. She hasn't said anything to me about being hurt."

"You can't even see it, can you? Tonight, you were out, were you on a date with Meredith?" Aria didn't want to waste energy on her dad's love life, _yuck_ , but he just made her soooo angry.

"Where I was is my business, not yours." Byron was with Meredith, but Aria was so judgmental, and his relationship was none of her concern, or Ella's for that matter.

"You've resumed seeing the woman that you cheated on Mom with. You don't think that makes news in Rosewood? You don't realize Mom is subjected to looks and whispers because of you starting up again with that horrible woman? And now, she wants to work at my school. Mom's school. She is some special kind of sick."

"It was your mother's choice to leave, Aria. I wouldn't be seeing Meredith again if she hadn't ended our marriage. And don't you dare speak ill of Meredith. You were the one who framed her for something she didn't do. She didn't deserve that."

"Ah, that's how you justify it to yourself, I was wondering." Aria decided to just stop. If her dad was able to absolve himself of guilt with Ella, then touching the Ezra topic was worse than pointless. She hurried to finish loading up her suitcase. She'd make another trip when Byron was at work. She had to get out of there.

"Well, Saint Aria, I really think you shouldn't be so quick to judge other peoples' life choices. How's the pervert doing?" Byron was angry that he had to be the one to bring him up, but Aria had gone after Meredith, so why shouldn't he?

"Ezra is not doing that well, actually. You see, 6 months ago he had a job that he loved and had earned stolen from him by a vindictive, controlling, hypocrite. And rather than leave me, he's taken jobs that are far beneath him and struggled to make ends meet. He even had to sell a gift left to him by his grandfather in order to stay here, in order to be with me. Because he loves me that much. Even though it was my own father that tried so hard to destroy everything he worked for. You think it's your right to make choices for yourself, and for everyone around you. You thoughtlessly and purposely hurt people that haven't wronged you in any way. And we're just forced to live the lives that are left. But I don't have to live it with you."

"I got him the job in the first place." He should've gone to the police. Maybe he still would.

"You got him the interview. He got himself the job. But you did take the job from him, out of spite. And don't even think about bringing up the police again. The whole town knows that Ezra and I are together, and no one will back you up if you say anything happened while he taught at the high school. I'll explain that it's just your way of trying to get back at me for moving out." Aria closed and latched her suitcase. She grabbed everything she had ready to go and walked right by Byron.

"How do you think Mike is going to feel when he finds out you abandoned him the same way his mother did?" Byron was _not_ going to ask her to stay, and he certainly wasn't going to apologize for doing what he had to do. She was supremely ungrateful and selfish.

"Who do you think got the suitcase down from the attic for me?" Aria and Mike were fine, and Byron just reiterated what a small petty man he actually was by trying to use Mike against her.

Aria dragged everything down the stairs, lugged it out to her car, and didn't look back.


End file.
